42. Dallas
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Dallas
The second Evan reaches for her, my body reacts before my brain does.
Something tears loose in my chest. Hot, violent, and absolute.
I step in front of Faith so fast she gasps, her breath hitting my back. My boots hit the pavement hard, planted, immovable.
“Don’t,” I say.
The word comes out low. Flat. Deadly calm.
Evan blinks at me because he genuinely didn’t expect resistance.
Then he laughs. It’s short and mean and edged with disbelief.
“You think you’re going to play cowboy hero right now?” he sneers. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Behind me, Faith’s fingers clutch the back of my jacket, twisting the fabric tight. It’s the only thing keeping her upright.
“She asked for help,” I say. “That makes it my concern.”
For half a second, Evan might actually hesitate.
Then his face twists, and the mask slips. Whatever careful, polished restraint he’s been clinging to cracks wide open, and what’s underneath is ugly. Raw entitlement and wounded pride colliding into something reckless.
“Help?” he snaps. “You think this is help?”
He lunges.
Not at me.
At her.
That’s when I lose it.
I don’t even remember deciding to move. My shoulder slams into his chest, knocking him back a step, my arm coming up hard between him and Faith.
“You don’t touch her,” I growl.
Evan stumbles, catches himself, and then swings.
It’s sloppy. Furious. All heat and no control.
I take the hit on my jaw, stars bursting behind my eyes, pain detonating sharp and bright, but it only fuels me. I drive forward, fist snapping out on instinct, connecting with his cheekbone with a solid crack that echoes down the street.
Evan reels, shock flashing across his face, then rage.
“You bastard,” he snarls and charges.
We collide, bodies slamming together, hands fisting in jackets, shoes scraping against pavement. The world narrows to breath and muscle and the singular goal of keeping him away from Faith.
He throws another punch. I block it, feel the impact rattle up my arm, then drive my elbow into his ribs. He grunts, folds slightly, but claws at my jacket.
I hear Faith scream my name.
I hear a voice cut through the noise.
“That’s enough.”
Boone.
Suddenly, Evan is ripped backward.
Boone’s hands clamp onto his shoulders, yanking him away with a force that makes Evan stumble. At the same time, Nash grabs me, hauling me back just as hard.
“Dallas!” Nash snaps. “That’s enough!”
I fight it for half a second, pure instinct, then register Faith again, standing there, shaking but upright, eyes locked on me.
I stop.
Clay steps in between us without a word, broad and immovable, his presence a wall Evan can’t get past. Evan strains against Boone’s grip, spitting fury, face flushed and wild.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with!” Evan shouts. “This isn’t your place—”
Boone leans in close. “Back off. Now.”
Evan laughs, breathless and unhinged. “You think a few cowboys scare me?”
Nash lets out a humorless huff. “Buddy, you should be real glad we showed up when we did.”
I wipe blood from my lip with the back of my hand, eyes never leaving Evan.
Then William Ross cuts through the air.
“What is going on here?”
I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
He struts out of the building, the street, the city itself. Tailored suit, cold eyes, posture rigid with authority. He assesses the scene instantly: Faith behind me. Evan bristling. My brothers spaced out around us, a wall he didn’t see coming.
His jaw tightens.
Evan pivots toward him immediately, relief flickering across his face.
“She’s having another episode,” he says quickly. “He showed up and upset her.”
The word episode lands hard.
Faith stiffens behind me. I feel it in the way her grip tightens.
“I am not having an episode,” she says. “I asked him to come.”
William’s eyes snap to her, furious beneath the surface.
“Faith,” he says, and his tone is calm in the way that means punishment later. “Get in the car. We’ll discuss this privately.”
Her fingers tremble against my back, but she doesn’t move.
“No.” The word is small yet seismic.
Silence follows is thick and dangerous, like the air before a storm.
Evan exhales sharply. “This is ridiculous,” he snaps, stepping closer. “You don’t even know what you’re dealing with…”
Evan shoves past Boone.
That’s his mistake.
Everything explodes at once.
I move on instinct, stepping into him again just as he swings. His fist catches my shoulder instead of my face, the impact jarring. I drive forward anyway, grabbing his jacket and slamming him back against the side of the SUV.
“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” I snarl.
He lashes out, nails scraping at my jaw, knuckles cracking against my collarbone. Pain blooms sharp and bright, but it barely registers. All I can see is Faith, frozen behind me, eyes wide, breath coming too fast.
I won’t let him near her.
Evan’s control is gone now… completely gone. He’s shouting, incoherent and furious.
“She’s unstable!” he yells. “She doesn’t know what she wants! She needs to be handled…”
That word.
Handled.
Something in me snaps clean in two.
I hit him again and this time there’s no restraint. My fist connects solidly, his head snapping to the side. He stumbles, curses, swings back wildly, catching my jaw hard enough that my teeth clack together.
The taste of blood floods my mouth.
“Dallas!” Faith screams.
Hands grab me again. Strong, relentless.
“Enough!” Boone roars, hauling me back with everything he’s got.
At the same time, Nash slams into Evan, pinning his arms as Clay wedges himself between us, broad shoulders blocking any chance of another hit.
Evan fights them, face red, eyes feral.
“Get off me!” he shouts. “You don’t know who you’re messing with!”
Boone doesn’t even look at him.
He pulls his phone from his pocket.
“That’s it,” he says, calm and absolute. “I’m calling Carson. He’ll get the backup here.”
William Ross’s head snaps toward him.
“That will not be necessary,” William says sharply.
Boone dials anyway.
“It is,” he replies. “Now it is.”
Sirens feel inevitable before I even hear them.
William turns on Faith. “Get in the car. Right now.”
She shakes her head, tears spilling freely now. “No.”
“This is not a negotiation,” he snaps.
She steps forward instead.
“I’m not going with you,” she says. “I don’t feel safe.”
The police arrive fast. Two cruisers, lights flashing, drawing a small crowd. Officers move in immediately, separating everyone, hands up, voices firm.
“What happened here?” one of them asks.
Everyone starts talking at once.
Evan launches into it, indignant and loud. William backs him up, controlled but furious, framing this as a misunderstanding, a family issue, a woman who’s “confused” and “emotionally compromised.”
The officers listen.
Then one of them turns to Faith.
“Ma’am,” he says gently. “What do you want to do?”
The world goes quiet.
Faith swallows. Her hands tremble, but she lifts her chin.
“I want to leave,” she says. “With him.”
She points at me.
“I didn’t come back willingly,” she continues, breaking and strengthening all at once. “I’ve been watched. Isolated. I don’t have my phone. I asked for help.”
William’s face drains of color.
Evan steps forward. “That’s not true—”
“Sir,” the officer snaps, stepping between them. “Step back.”
They ask questions. They take statements. They separate stories. And the truth settles in, heavy and undeniable.
Coercion.
An adult woman being prevented from leaving.
Finally, the officer turns back to Faith.
“You’re free to go,” he says. “Do you want assistance retrieving your belongings later?”
Faith looks at me.
I nod, barely trusting my voice. “We’ll take care of it.”
She exhales. A deep, shuddering breath.
William looks at her then, really looks.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says quietly.
Faith straightens.
“No,” she says. “I’m choosing myself.”
That’s it.
They can’t stop her.
She walks toward me without hesitation, her hand sliding into mine because it’s always belonged there. She’s shaking, but she’s smiling through tears.
Free.
Joy crashes into me so hard it almost knocks the breath out of my lungs. Relief. Gratitude. So close to happiness it hurts.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, squeezing her hand.
She looks up at me, eyes shining. “I know.”
As we walk away, my brothers flanking us as a wall I didn’t know I needed, I feel lighter than I have in years.
She’s safe.
She chose.
And I am so damn over the moon I don’t even care who sees it.